Smells Like Deer Jerky

I’m not going to explain the title of this blog. The gaggle of girls that understand it already are just that lucky to spend some quality time with me where I abused this phrase more than Joe the plumber was abused* this year.

I will say this, though: turns out, I’m rather SENSITIVE to smells.

Here’s what else I will say about this weekend. The chicken noodle soup at The Porcupine Grill is TO DIE FOR. Seriously. I would jump in front of a semi if it meant that I could eat this soup in heaven**.

And that leads me to wonder… what OTHER things would I be willing to commit semi-suicide for? Let’s make a list…

• Men’s choruses
• Tapioca pudding
• One-hour, deep-tissue massages
• Pay Days
• Undisturbed sleep
• A grand piano
• CLASSY Christmas music (like MoTab and Handel’s Messiah)
• Lots and lots of books
• And last… to be in shape and an awesome-possum soccer player.

I know it’s a short list… for now. What did I forget?

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There was a tie for today’s Political Link of the Day between this Letter to the New York Times about Obama and FDR and Dave Barry’s astute election coverage (we’re all doomed regardless). Oh happy day.

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*abused meaning flaunted, publicized, terrorized and celebrityized

**Yes, I am making assumptions here concerning my eternal salvation.